LYRICS AND POEMS 



TRANSLATIONS BY 



EDITH DEAKE BROWNE 



PORTLAND, MAINE 

SMITH & SALE, PRINTERS 

19IS 



COPYRIGHT igi5 
BY EDITH DEAKE BROWNE 



FEB 171915 

S)CIA39175G 



^q3 lyric 

\ ^^ <^ "^ (A very dark night, during a Calm, under 

\\ ^ ^ the Equator) 



\ 



Number and Time are fallen, and Space 
From out the firmament's black steeps 
To the sea's sombre, still embrace. 

Utterly does the night efface, 

A shroud of silent gloom, it keeps 

All Time, all Number and all Space. 

Like dying years, with stolid face 

The Soul to sleeping, freightless deeps, 

To the sea's sombre, still embrace 

Within itself, to darkest place. 
Its memories, dreams and wishes sweeps. 
And Time and Number and all Space, 
To dim oblivion's calm embrace. 

By LECONTE DE LISLE 

Translated by Edith Deake Browne 

36 State St., Portland, Maine 



THE MILKY WAY 

To the misty stars I said : 
" Why thus sadly gleams your light ? 
Why is mournful message sped 
Through uncounted leagues of night ? " 

In the firmament I see 
White-clad virgins marching slow, 
Steep ways threading wearily 
By their tapers' flickering glow. 

" Walk you under some fell ban, 

Praying always as you tread, 

That in radiance so wan 

More of tears than light you shed ? 

" You, the stars, the ancestors. 
Both of creatures and of gods, — 
Are you in the Parcae's laws 
Snared, and menaced by their rods ? " 

Fell the faint reply, afar : 
" Mortal, see our hopeless plight ; 
Sisters thou believest we are, 
Each caressing each with light. 

" Sisters, yes, but dwelling each 
Far from each in trackless space ; 



Doomed our tender beams to reach 
Only night's unanswering face." 

Starward bore my echoing mood : 
"You are like the human soul, 
In a boundless solitude 
Wasting, never near its goal. 

But the veil of distant day 
Is your broideries' cloudy gold ; 
Cheer to worlds upon their way 
Is the promise it doth hold. 

Fain like destiny to earn, 
Shall the seer, with steadfast gaze 
Joyous paths of use discern 
Through the coming eons' haze. 

From rhe French of SULLY PRUDHOMME 
(With two additional stanzas by 
the translator, Edith Deake Browne) 

36 State St., Portland, Maine 



FRENCH AND ENGLISH SONG 

Each little maiden — 

All, in a ring, 
Where woods, leaf-laden 

Soft shadows fling ! 



ANSON DE GRAND-PERE 

sez, les petites filles, 
outes en rond. 
i^ous voyant si gentilles, 
es bois riront. 

isez, les petites reines, 
outes en rond. 
amoureux sou les frenes 
' embrasseront. 

isez, les petites folles, 
'outes en rond. 
bouquins dans les ecoles 
ourgeonneront. 

isez, les petites belles, 
outes en rond. 
oiseaux avec leurs ailes 
.pplaudiront. 



GRANDFATHER'S SONG 

Gazing as such pretty maids 

Dance in a ring, 
Merrily the sylvan shades 

Laugh as they swing. 

Circle, tiny queens and sweet, 

All in a ring. 
Lovers 'neath the trees will meet, 

Fond vows to bring. 

Books may bud and bloom, while vain 

Their ding-dong ding : 
Madcaps, dance, escaped their reign 

All in a ring ! 

To the wee belles' flying feet 

All in a ring. 
Birds their gay applause shall beat 

With flap of wing. 



Dansez, les petites fees, 

Toutes en rond. 
Dansez, de bluets coiffees, 

L'aurore au front. 

Dansez, les petites femmes, 

Toutes en rond. 
Les messieurs diront aux dames 

Ce qu' ils voudront. 



Coiffed with blue flowers, elfins, race, 

All in a ring ; 
Bright dawn shining in the face 

Of each small thing. 

Mimic women, lightly glide 

All in a ring. 
Soon the days when you will bide 

What lovers sing. 



. By Victor Hugo 
[L' Art d' etre Grand-Pere) 



Translated by Edith Deake Browne 
36 State St., Portland, Maine 



KOMOR AND TIPHAINE 
(Lord and Lady of the Castle of Kemper) 

BY LECONTE DE LISLE 

(Barbaric Poems) 

Where errant moon her brilliant causeway paves 
Or walks, cloud-dimmed above where ocean laves 
Brittany's verge, there, in the froth of waves 

Komor's stronghold opposed the storms with front 
And lofty bulk unchanged. So, in its hunt 
For prey the bird poised high in air is wont 

To scan the deep. Fell a complaining vast 

On all the coast. Mist throbbed upon the waste 

As ' t were drowned souls unshriven there outcast. 

On darkened ramparts drummed the racing hail; 
To cope with steadfast chains the blast did fail, 
But on the slopes the trees bent to its wail. 

Strewed with snapped oaken branches lay the wold, 

Anon by direful shriek was frequent told 

That to the cormorant's aim its prize was doled. 



Within his sea-gnawed fastness its proud chief, 
Mail-clad, paced in the torchlight, rent by grief 
To which his ceaseless tread brought no relief. 

To the increasing outer combat numb 

He clutched at his unquiet heart, as, dumb 

One feels in evil dream some terror come. 

Vigorous, tall was he, stranger to fears, 
But on his hard, gray-bearded face the tears 
Attesting that he knew the woe which sears. 

Ready as if for sacrifices crude 

A weapon, a stained block as altar, stood 

Beneath the downward gaze of pendent rood. 

Moaned Komor, grieving, as with anguish shrunk, 
Low on his knees before the Christ he sunk : 
" Will ne'er be done the office of that monk ? " 

Then with the glide of sandaled, slow footfall. 
Parting the curtains hanging like a pall, 
Came the confessor to the mournful hall. 

" My lord as you commanded I have done; 
But heed this hour the precept of God's Son ! 
Such mercy show as for us He hath won." 



To this entreaty, Komor made reply : 

" Priest, come not further than thy part doth lie ; 

She who despised life's holiest bond must die. 

" But think not base-born serf her doom shall tell." 
The friar withdrew, and Komor smote a bell 
Sounding with heavy hand the fateful knell. 

Sinister pealed the summons forth till lost 

In low, far arches where 'neath armor crossed, 

' Fearless, reproachless ' slept the ancestral host. 

Then was a stillness; — till the sea forsook 
Its wonted place and with exasperate look 
The fissured staircase of its borders shook. 

Now, coming slowly ('seeing, who would not weep?') 
A figure, calm as one whom angels keep. 
Entered as if detached from shadows deep. 

Tiphaine, untrembling, with unshaking knee. 

The block, the sheathless sword, Christ on His Tree, 

And her implacable, harsh spouse could see. 

Gazing while she stood meekly as a dove, — 
Said Komor to Tiphaine : (strange was his love ! ) 
" For sin like thine thou must account above." 



" I shall of Saint Anne, Mary, Christ, obtain 
Peace," she replied ; " Sir lord, God still thy pain ! " - 
" Of Vanne's fair house unworthy child, Tiphaine, 

"Unfit the honor of thy sires to share. 
Opprobrium of the name which thou dost wear, 
Thy pardon beg the Saviour to declare. 

"Long I have suffered thee, I yet can wait." 
And Komor backward drew, not voicing hate. 
And 'neath her golden hair, as day grew late. 

Flecked with the torchlight glancing in the shade, 
While the knife's glittering threat was briefly stayed 
And night unrolled its numerous sounds, she prayed ; - 

But soon in rapturous dream forgot her plight, 
Recalled her brow with freshest roses dight 
In former time of joyousness and light 

When in her innocence, O Virgin kind, 

Her guileless offerings where thou wast enshrined 

Were flowers of sweet aroma, prayer-entwined. 

Crowned was she also in her dream, forsooth, 
With bloom of ageless love in dew of youth ; — 
Bright vision of hope and faith in very truth ! 



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Soon burst a storm full-like to this now wrought 
In seas' and winds' wild tumult; — she, distraught, 
Had bent to Komor's wrath, his mercy sought. 

But when, in numbing calm forbore to roll 

Love's mighty waves, stilled in her deepest soul, — 

Again his coming re-awaked the whole, 

Who once her being had stirred, whom now she will, 
Mayhap, rejoin : (for vengeance swift its fill 
Had not delayed to take, his blood to spill 

On Komor's steel) who had, presumptuous, gained 
From Komor's shield its gem and thus profaned 
The scutcheon : — of its fairness naught remained. 

Rousing Tiphaine, said Komor : " Tell me how 
Thou bearest just decree. Dost to it bow ? 
Repent and wash with blood thy trespass now ; 

" I would not with thy flesh thy soul destroy." 
Replied Tiphaine : " Thine ire is due, my joy 
Is that I evermore without alloy 

" Will love him. But God's clemency I ask, — 
And of thee that thou dost perform thy task." 
Gravely then answered Komor : " From thy mask 



lO 



" Depart ! Another Judge thy cause must sift : 
Thy treason makes life but a widening rift." 
Then pausing only her soft hair to lift 

Tiphaine approached the block and on it laid 
Her lovely head. Swift did the hissing blade 
Descend. Thus was her expiation made. 

Her soul being fled, upraised then her lord 

Her fallen corse from which the life still poured — 

And head with vacant eyes, as 't were some hoard 

Most precious. Mounting then the turret's height 
Which spied unceasing on the sea-bird's flight, 
He cast his burden to the furious night. 

From storm-swept battlement he saw unfurl, 
As to receive some lost and priceless pearl, 
The hungry depths of the abyss's whirl. 

Then on his white, dishonored head with sigh 
Making the sacred sign, intent to die, 
Uttering, as all-bereft, a bitter cry 

Which far the mighty wind through great trees bore, 
He, arms outstretched, into the sea leaped o'er 
Which gave not back his bones upon its shore. 

So died Tiphaine and Kemper's lord, Komor. 

[Free] Translation by Edith Deake Browne 
36 State St., Portland, Maine 



1 1 



TO MY SOUL 

Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 

I envied not, in youth and strength. 
Closed eyes the cere-cloth's pressure chill ; 
In the great woods, through richest length, 
I wandered at unsated will : 
Anon the elements and fear 
Weighted with thought my gazing eyes 
Soon bandaged close with sweat and tear. 
Ending illusion and surprise. 

Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 

Dust-powdered from a stormy route, 

Weary, I slip on wavering sands ; 

But now, poor traveler, naught doth moot ; 

Yonder oasis opening stands ; 

The rolling heavens, gemmed, cloudless, see 

To bathe thee in their purest deep 

Swing, lily-girt, the blue waves free — 

Cast on the bank thy tatters, leap ! 

Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 



12 



Fly, pitying not that fleshly thing ! 

When sin's light ways thou saw'st me keep, 

But yesterday, thou felt'st thy wing, 

In durance pining and didst weep : 

Wasted by fever now I die. 

And, Captive Bird in densest copse. 

Art daunted of (that thou dost sigh) 

The gust that now thy prison opes ? 

Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 

When, led by pleasure's phantom lust 

But finding not the manna craved. 

Befooled, my hunger fed on dust 

And learned the paths with errors paved — 

Not thou, O sleeping Dove and white, 

Consenting or accomplice, spoiled; 

No, fianced to the Infinite 

Thou goest to thy Spouse unsoiled. 

Fly, trembling not, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 

From where in peace the Infinite broods, 
Thy comrades' struggle thou shalt cheer ; 
When, thoughtless in their playful moods, 
Thou see'st the fair-haired children near 



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The flower-veiled graves ; — on crumbled tomb 
Fall fruits for which this clay is spent, — 
Not poppies' mere but choicer bloom 
Most strange, shall greet thee, — thy content. 

Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; 

Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 

By HEGESIPPE MOREAU 
[Free] Translation by Edith Deake Browne 
May fourth, 1902 
36 State St., Portland, Maine 



14 



ANSWER 

Enter, A Christian 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Unguided to the unknown bourn ! 

God give thee pause, O sin-tossed Soul, 

Lest beauteous visions chimeras be. 

Lest star-gemmed heavens that beckoning roll 

Be trackless space, uncharted sea ; 

Lest the fair oasis be a dream. 

The lilies rudely fretted stones 

'Gainst which the alluring billows gleam 

With ripple soft ere tempest moans 1 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Guideless toward the unknown bourn ! 

Amidst the desert's fiery sands, 

As 'twere a mountain fortress bold, 

A Rock,^ a Being, protecting stands. 

Shelter and Guide by sage foretold : — 

That Being the unmeasured space had mapped 

Before its gemming orbs emerged 

In His resistless laws enwrapped 

Whose power incessant through them surged. 



I Isaiah xxxii : 2. 

IS 



Fly not, O Soul, that body worn. 
Defenceless to the unknown bourn ! 

The prophet warns in words austere, 
Pleads with thee loftiest strain of muse 
Adown the march of centuries drear. 
The succor of that Shield to choose. 
Speak' to that Rock once smitten^ for thee. 
And through the rift to Its deep Heart 
Thy whisper faint will surely flee 
As bird from prisoning cage would dart. 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Helpless unto the unknown bourn ! 

Sure is that Refuge. Would'st thou proof ? 

The Message glows from history's dawn ; 

First kept by mystic Race aloof 

The wondrous lore, — then, later, borne 

Through Close and Crypt and Cell and Dark 

Till speech of every human clan 

Its chariot is, its covenant ark. 

Do wings of brooding cherub span ? 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Lonely, toward the unknown bourn ! 



1 Numbers xx : 8. 

2 Exodus XVII : 6. 



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Word, shown of old in constant type, 
Judge, Elder, King attest its truth : 
Its Promise, bloomed, when time grew ripe 
Is witnessed, sealed, through weal and ruth, 
In valiant strife, in blood outpoured 
Of Apostle, Martyr (each whose name 
Is in the shining record stored) 
And myriads lost to earthly fame. 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Alone, unto the unknown bourn ! 

Flowing replete with undreamed good, 
Behold the Hands that reach for thee, 
Bearing renewing lave and Food 
And magnet : He hath voyaged that sea : 
Its speeding isles and their far goal 
Confess their only Master, Him, 
Thy Captain and thy Course, O Soul, 
Discern through fading light and dim. 

Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, 
Unguided, to the unknown bourn ! 



By the translator, Edith Deake Browne 
36 State Street, Portland, Maine 



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